


Try Not to Ask Too Many Questions

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Co-workers, First Dates, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Realization, Seduction, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his injuries necessitate Eliot staying with Nate for a while it becomes harder for mastermind and hitter to avoid their growing attraction to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Not to Ask Too Many Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't remember what I started writing this for. Since the majority of my Nate/Eliot stories are written for jesco0307, I have to assume it was intended for her. Unfortunately it languished in my WIP for over a year, until I realized it was a lot closer to being finished than I remembered. Hopefully it was worth the wait!

“That was pretty much the textbook definition of overkill.” Eliot is smiling however, as he joins Nate on the couch.

Nate’s own answering grin is small and mischievous as he takes a sip of his whisky. “Kept you from leaving, didn’t it?” Eliot had been badly hurt on their last job – enough that what would normally have been days in the hospital followed by a brief recovery secure in his own apartment had stretched to nearly a week in the hospital and firm instructions on his discharge that he not be left alone any longer than absolutely necessary.

Awareness of how close they’d come to losing Eliot had forced Nate to reevaluate things he’d spent far too much time trying to avoid. He’d insisted Eliot recover at his apartment, reasoning that the team spent most of their time there anyway, and he’d gone out of his way to see that the hitter’s every need was met. Tonight he’d hired one of Boston’s most famous chefs to cook dinner for the two of them, telling the man something of Eliot’s experience and interests in the kitchen and making one request: “impress him if you can”.

If the smile on his hitter’s face is any indication, Nate suspects his request has been fulfilled in spades. “You make a persuasive argument when you put your mind to it, I’ll give you that.” His gaze is soft as he looks up at Nate, and the mastermind feels things tighten pleasantly low in his body in response. “Thank you.”

Acting on raw instinct, Nate leans into Eliot, kissing him as thoroughly as he can. The younger man’s lips part with a soft moan, and Nate slides his tongue into his mouth. He cups Eliot’s head between his hands, holding him steady, holding him still – _hoping he won’t get away?_

“Nate,” the hitter whispers when they finally part, “you don’t have to do this.”

Nate almost laughs – it’s all so ridiculous, now that he’s finally here, finally doing everything he’s dreamed of for endless days as they worked and lived and loved together, and endless nights alone in his own bed, Eliot is the one giving him permission to run. Eliot, who’s gone farther for him, believes in him more than anyone ever has, is trying to keep the door open.

“Too late,” Nate murmurs, pressing his lips to Eliot’s again in a quick, hard kiss full of promise – full of hope. “This is where I belong. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be – where I want to be.” He pauses, sitting back on his heels and looking into Eliot’s memory haunted eyes. “If you…that is…” The possibility that he’s made a mistake somehow, that this isn’t what Eliot wants at all, crashes in around him. “Eliot…”

The younger man’s smile is slow and shows more than a hint of his typical exasperation. “You talk too much.”

Despite his obvious pain and disorientation, Eliot is the one that rolls Nate beneath him, pressing him down into the expensive leather of the couch cushions. “How far do you want to take this?” he asks, crouching above Nate. 

Nate is more than happy to answer that question. “No limits,” he says, and there is no trace of uncertainty or hesitation in his voice. “Eliot, God – don’t you know?”

“I know,” the hitter says. “I just didn’t know if you saw things the same way I did.”

Guilt licks through his brain then, leaving shame in its wake. “I didn’t,” he admits, “not at first. The idea that you saw something in me worth following was insane enough. The idea that you might want me, that you might…” He chokes the sentence off, worrying that he’s starting to sound ridiculous.

“Love you?” Eliot asks, the single arched eyebrow making him look more like himself than he has in weeks. “You sell yourself short, old man.” He kisses Nate then; the burn of stubble against Nate’s chin an extra flame behind the urgent press of lips, the slide of his tongue against Nate’s. It’s thorough and passionate, and Nate realizes he’s having trouble remembering his own name, much less how to breathe, once it’s done.

“I love you,” he admits. “You are the most frustrating, infuriating individual I have ever met, and I love you more and more every day.”

Knowing where he wants to take this, and pretty sure based on the hard bulge he feels pressing into his thigh that they’re on the same page, Nate begins tugging on Eliot’s shirt – pulling it up until Eliot can slip the fabric over his head. Nate’s hands are on his skin again almost immediately, fingers splayed into the muscles of his abdomen. “Your hands are cold,” Eliot laughs, making a face.

“Your skin is warm,” Nate counters, then Eliot is pulling back from him, settling in a spot between Nate’s legs. Nate tries to sit up, tries to follow him, but Eliot pushes him back down with a hand pressed to his stomach.

“You want to take control, you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot more than this,” he grins, unfastening Nate’s belt and immediately going to work on the button and zipper of his pants. “I’m a whips and chains kinda guy.”

Nate raises an eyebrow, but relaxes into the cushions – only raising his hips briefly to allow Eliot to strip off his slacks and underwear. His cock springs free, fully erect by that point. “Doesn’t look like you object to the idea.”

“I’ve…I’ve tried it a couple times,” Nate admits, his breath hissing out between his teeth as Eliot wraps a hand around his shaft and strokes him.

“Used them or had them used?” Eliot flicks his thumb under the ridge of the helmet shaped head, and Nate’s hands slap down against the cushions, fingers digging for purchase. “Hands over your head, Nate. Hold onto the arm of the sofa.” Shivering uncontrollably, Nate does what he’s told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through him, making it feel like his cock is actually swelling in Eliot’s grip.

“Definitely had them used,” Eliot grins, increasing his strokes.

“Both…” Nate admits, closing his eyes briefly against the waves of pleasure breaking over him. “Eliot…” He doesn’t want to beg, but understands in a flash that he will if Eliot wants him to.

“You make a good looking sub,” Eliot says. Their eyes meet, and Nate squirms at the predatory focus in his friend’s gaze. “I think you’d look good in a collar and chains.”

“Chains yes,” Nate admits. “No…no collar.”

Eliot looks like he doesn’t believe him, but he gets to his feet and quickly strips out of his own clothes. “God, I need to fuck you right now,” he groans. “We’ll save the whips and chains for next time.”

The words ‘next time’ are like a jolt of electricity – Nate inhales sharply as pleasure shivers through him. His hand twitches in the direction of his cock, but before he can wrap his fingers around his shaft, Eliot is back, taking his hands and putting them back above his head. “Mine,” he breathes, pressing his full weight down and pinning Nate in place.

Their eyes meet and Nate suddenly realizes he’s stopped breathing altogether. Eliot rocks his hips slowly and firmly forward, increasing the pressure and friction until Nate begins to wonder if he’s going to last as long as the hitter needs him to. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Eliot growls, his voice like crushed velvet against Nate’s skin. “Please tell me you’ve got something that will make this go smooth.” He rocks his hips in again, and Nate makes a sound he’s pretty sure he hasn’t heard out of his own throat since he was a teenager.

“Side table,” he whines, flailing somewhat with his right hand as he waves Eliot’s attention in the right direction. “Condoms…condoms are upstairs…” His head is spinning, and he knows if Eliot has to go all the way upstairs before they finish he’s absolutely going to embarrass himself.

With a groan of frustration, Eliot pushes himself off Nate. “I am _not_ asking why you have lube down here.”

“Probably best,” Nate admits ruefully. His entire body is aching with need, his hips making small, slow thrusting motions as his cock blindly searches for the friction it needs.

His breath catches in his throat as Eliot’s hands close around his wrists. “Can I tie you?” It’s only then that it registers with Nate that it never even occurred to him to move since Eliot hadn’t given him permission. Swallowing hard against a suddenly very dry throat, Nate closes his eyes and nods quickly before he has a chance to think about it.

Nimble, calloused fingers wrap well-worn leather around his wrists, pulling them together. “Tell me if anything is too tight,” Eliot murmurs, crouching to fasten the other end of the belt so that Nate can’t lower his arms at all. Nate bites his lip and closes his eyes – groaning softly as his cock twitches in clear agreement with the move, sending a jolt of raw pleasure shooting up through his belly.

“Hey.” A warm hand cups his jaw; Nate’s eyes open reflexively to see Eliot smiling down at him. “Wow – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this gone before.”

Nate pulls against his bonds; the feel of the leather straps holding him in place is far more of a turn-on than he expected. “Hold on,” Eliot urges, taking his own cock in hand and stroking himself to full hardness.

Now it’s Nate’s turn to smile. “Not…not going anywhere,” he breathes, his voice shaky. “You made sure of that.” The sight of Eliot rolling on a condom, then slicking himself up is almost enough to push him over the edge – his cock has leaked enough pre-come that Nate can feel the liquid pooling at the base of his shaft. “Eliot, please…”

The hitter moves between his thighs again, bracing himself lightly with a hand on Nate’s hip. “It’s gonna be tight.” His expression shows an unexpected flicker of doubt.

Nate’s hips rock up and Eliot’s hand flexes against his skin. “I’ll be fine. We can do this. I trust you.” He pulls on the straps binding his wrists again, feels another jolt of pleasure lancing through him.

“If you’re sure,” Eliot says. Before Nate can reassure him, Eliot’s hands slide into position, spreading him wide enough that his muscles begin to tremble and ache from the strain. Despite his concern, he pushes in easily – slow and firm. Nate cries out, arching into him as Eliot stretches him open, finds the sweet spot, and strokes it deep and hard. “Oh yeah,” he croons, pulling back and thrusting forward again harder. “I figured you’d like that.”

Nate has to let his body language speak for him as Eliot fucks him once…twice…three times… How long has he imagined this moment. How many different ways has he imagined what it would feel like coming together with Eliot – all sweat and skin and their mutual need?

“Did figure I’d be on top…” he manages at last, feeling the first stirrings of orgasm spiral up through his groin. Eliot is also starting to make embarrassingly needy sounds low in his own throat.

“There’s time enough for that,” he says. “This is what I need right now. I need to see you coming apart on my cock. I need to know that you want me inside you, that you want to let me take control.”

‘I do,” Nate gasps. “I really do…oh God, Eliot, please...” He can’t get the words out, but the hitter knows what he needs. Eliot’s fingers curl around his cock again – stroking him in time with each deep, firm thrust. Every move he makes is strong and sure and perfect, and finally there is nothing Nate can do but relinquish the last shreds of his control to wherever Eliot intends to take this.

When he finally comes, the world goes white around him. Thick streaks of come stripe his and Eliot’s flesh; mere moments later Eliot curls in close to him, his breathing harsh and his strokes ragged. “So tight,” he groans, coming at last – the increased pressure kicking off another smaller, but no less intense orgasm for the mastermind.

“Let me go,” he gasps as Eliot half-collapses across him. “Please let me go Eliot, let me touch you…let me…” He suspects very little of what he’s babbling makes sense, but he doesn’t care.

“Shhh,” Eliot soothes him, his own voice rough-sounding. “Shhh… rest, Nate. Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
